


a far sweeter thing

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Ice Cream, Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Drabble basedon Tumblr prompt: "melting ice cream"





	a far sweeter thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



The new base has its advantages, its charms, but it’s not up to working standards yet.

“I know, I know,” Daisy says as she sees him walk into the room, his hand already lifted to catch the first drops of sweat from his brow. “Mack and Piper are on it.”

She laughs a bit at his instant discomfort, if he could he would be taking all his clothes off right now. Well, well, she thinks as Coulson starts at least loosening his tie in desperation, maybe the air conditioner debacle is one of the advantages of the new base, after all.

“You should get out of all those,” she says, gesturing at his suit.

“I see you are way ahead of me,” he replies, with a sideways, almost casual - _yeah, right_ \- glance at what Daisy is wearing, or what she isn’t wearing, she likes to think. She’s put on her sparring shorts and a light top.

“What? Do these bother you, Agent Coulson?” she teases, walking towards him.

He looks down at his feet. Oh yeah, she’s barefoot. Coulson groans - it’s not a groan-groan, like the ones she’s able to raise from his throat late at night in her bunk, the ones he oh so willingly surrenders even before she has touched him, no, this is a truly frustrated groan. And now the sweat has begun to pool around the collar of his shirt, staining it. He takes off the jacket of his suit, at least, and puts down the briefcase, full of new documents and negotiations between SHIELD and other agencies, or between those agencies and the laws that govern Inhumans like Daisy, but judging by his reddening face that relief not enough to fight the midsummer heat wave. Daisy thinks she hears him curse under his breath.

“I’m more bothered by that,” he says, eyeing and raising an eyebrow towards the ice cream in her hand.

“Want some?” Daisy says and she swears it’s very straightforward and innocently, while hunting a stray drop of melted ice on her wrist, but when she looks up Coulson is looking at her, _looking_ at her in a way that’s both familiar and shocking, ALARMING actually, looking at her mouth and he smiles. “I didn’t mean-”

Coulson shakes his head. The hair at his sides have become dark with sweat, stuck to his head. “I know,” he says.

She still walks towards him, almost menacingly, her ice pop versus his proper proper suit.

Before she can offer him the ice cream Coulson has his hand around Daisy’s arm, twisting her closer and bringing her wrist - the melted fruity liquid running down - to his lips. His mouth makes a sucking sound against her wet skin. Daisy makes a gasping sound when she feels the touch.

“Freaking hell, Coulson.”

“Phil,” he says, all husky and obviously winning whatever game they are playing, judging by the way Daisy’s legs threaten to buck under her. With his free hand he loosens his tie further, until it comes undone, almost as if by accident. “We’re alone. It’s _Phil_.”

He twists her wrist further, so he can lick the back of it.

She likes their self-imposed dichotomy. Coulson/Phil. Work/Alone. But always _us_. And it’s like having _two_ Coulsons all for herself. 

“Yes. Phil.”

His face is hot, heated up, and sweaty. Daisy presses her mouth to his, letting her tongue, cold from licking the ice cream, playfully touch his. Now she gets to hear _the other_ groan. 

“Okay, you’re going to get a heatstroke, here,” she says, offering the ice stick to him.

Coulson licks the length of it - self-aware, of course, of the suggestive image - but he comes away looking dissatisfied. 

“The other one was sweeter,” he tells her, looking at her mouth.

Daisy laughs, and blushes a bit (hidden by the heat), tapping her fingers against his chest. Blue, sugary dots staining his proper, proper shirt.

“I think you have enough sugar in you as it is,” she jokes.


End file.
